


The Jacket Was A Move

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Crushes, Getting Together, High School, Jock Derek Hale, M/M, Nerd Stiles, POV Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 05:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11707515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Derek is a jock and infinitely cooler than Stiles and his nerdy friends. That doesn't stop Stiles from having a massive crush on him, though.





	The Jacket Was A Move

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnoyinglyCute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnoyinglyCute/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for the glorious Steph. See, I told you it might be around midnight, lol. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
> 
> My bro Rita did a super quick beta. Thanks, bro, you're epic. <3

Stiles can't help but stare when Derek starts shrugging out of his Letterman jacket, because even fully dressed it's like some kind of jock-themed porno. Stiles would know, he has a ton of those on his harddrive at home.

 

He balks, though, when Derek shakes out the jacket and starts trying to drape it across Stiles' shoulders.

 

“Woah, dude, what the hell are you doing?!”

 

Derek stops dead, jacket hanging limply between his hands, and his eyebrows scrunched up tight.

 

“You're cold.”

 

“It's like seventy degrees, and I'm wearing three layers, Derek. Trust me, I'm not cold.”

 

“But...” Derek looks kinda constipated. “You shivered.”

 

Oh, crap. Stiles had really kinda hoped Derek hadn't noticed that.

 

Thing is, Stiles and Derek don't really move in the same circles. It's not strictly a nerds versus jocks clique thing, but there are definitely more jocks in Derek's circle of cool friends, and a lot more nerds in Stiles' group of social outcasts.

 

Stiles' stupid heart doesn't seem to care about that, though. And just like it had done with Lydia a couple of years back, it once again went for the single person most out of his reach. It's fucking typical, is what it is, and when Derek had sat down next to Stiles on the bleachers at the annual marching band performance there was no way he could stop the shiver, because oh, god, Derek is literally an inch away. It's mandatory attendance, sure, but Derek could have sat literally anywhere else. He chose to sit next to Stiles. And noticed his shivering. _Oh, god._

 

Unlike Lydia, however, Derek is _nice_. Kinda scary, sure, but nice. Helps the teachers clean up after classes, trains with freshmen if they wanna make the baseball team in junior year, and is generally known for being the kind of person you can ask for help. If you're brave enough to look past the resting murder face and his circle of terrifying friends, that is. Stiles is half sure they're all vampires or something, because they're just too beautiful.

 

So being offered a jacket shouldn't really be that surprising. Being offered one because Derek noticed a shiver Stiles tried really hard to hide? That one's a shocker, and Stiles is one hundred percent sure he's seeing something in it that isn't there. So he's backing the hell off before he can face a humiliation like he's never faced before. Being crushed by rejection if he ever got up the nerve to actually ask Derek out or something would be bad enough. Having it happen where literally the entire school can see? Yeah, Stiles would rather eat every single whiteboard eraser in the building.

 

“Dude, no. Just... no,” Stiles grits out, and curls in on himself a little more, because if Derek touches him now he might cry.

 

“Oh. Okay. Sorry. I... sorry,” Derek says, folding the jacket awkwardly in his lap. “I just thought... Erica said... never mind, I'm sorry.”

 

Stiles is actually aware that Derek isn't as aloof and cold as his face and wardrobe choices would suggest, but he's not usually one for rambling, and Stiles casts him a curious glance. Derek's fingers are picking at a thread in the jacket, and his eyebrows are so frowny his whole forehead is going wrinkly. He looks... kinda sad, if Stiles is being honest. And, god, the last thing in the world Stiles wants is to make Derek sad.

 

“Look, man, if it's that important to you, I'll wear the jacket,” he says, stomping down on how the idea of wearing anything of Derek's is giving him palpitations.

 

“It's not important,” Derek mutters.

 

“Liar. You look like your dog died. Gimme that jacket, but don't blame me for the sweat stains,” Stiles says, and reaches for it. Derek's hands are clutched in it, though, and he stares at Stiles like he can't believe some peasant dares touch his belongings.

 

“What do you care?”

 

“I... care. I'm a caring person.”

 

Derek raises a single eyebrow, and damn him, he's barely spoken two words to Stiles ever, and he's already got Stiles completely pegged.

 

“Okay, fine,” Stiles admits. “I'm caring about maybe three people in the world. But the list could get longer! I could grow as a person, you never know!”

 

It's not that he doesn't care that other people get hurt, his ADHD just has a way of making him lose focus on stuff. Like whether or not he's ticking people off. The mental energy it takes to keep up a decent, caring relationship with anyone means he's forced to limit it to only a few people, and apologize to the rest whenever they're nice enough to let him  _know_ he's been a dick. Derek is already on the list of people Stiles actively cares about, of course, but telling Derek that is  _definitely_ out of the question. 

 

The marching band is starting up, and conversation isn't really that easy, so Stiles quirks an eyebrow right back and gives the jacket a little tug. Derek's hands twitch, and they end up having a ridiculous eyebrow argument over it. It's probably the weirdest thing Stiles has ever done, and he loves every second of it. Eventually, though, Derek's eyebrows stop bouncing around, and he rolls his eyes instead, handing over the jacket.

 

“Yes!” Stiles crows, and shrugs out of his flannel to at least limit the overheating slightly. Derek stares at him, and Stiles nervously checks his shirt for stains or something, but doesn't find any.

 

“ _What?_ ” he mouths at Derek, but all he gets is a weird half-shrug before Derek finally looks away. 

 

The jacket isn't actually as warm as he'd thought, so he's not boiling, which is nice. It smells a lot like Derek, all musky and Derek-y, and that's even nicer. What's less nice is how three cheerleaders passing by almost trip over themselves gawping at him, and one of them has her phone out. She would definitely have taken a picture if a teacher hadn't arrived with perfect timing to hustle them to their seats.

 

A sticky sort of lump settles in Stiles' gut, and he swallows against the bad taste in his mouth. Of course this is gonna bite him in the ass. It's not that he blames anyone for being envious. Hell, Stiles has been envious of every single person Derek has even looked at since the day he first saw him, and envy is a nasty thing that makes a lot of people lose sight of basic human decency.

 

Determined not to make things worse for himself, Stiles sets his jaw, and hurriedly pulls off the jacket. Derek is looking slightly less constipated, but frowns all over again when Stiles plops the jacket into his lap, and makes gestures he hopes indicate that he's gotta go.

 

He elbows at least three people in his eagerness to leave, and he must look desperate, because the one teacher he bumps into completely buys his lie about having stomach problems and needing the bathroom.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fucking stupid... fuck,” he mutters to himself, and actually does go to the nearest restroom. It gives him a decent enough excuse, and he could probably use some water on his face anyway.

 

The stalls are all empty, thank god, everyone else still stuck at the gym, and Stiles breathes over a sink for a while, the porcelain nice and cool under his sweaty palms. He's still working on regaining his equilibrium when the door opens and slowly closes. He's got his eyes closed while he counts seconds for some calming breaths and he hears no footsteps, so he's definitely being stared at again.  _Great_ .

 

“Dude, could you just do your thing and let your fellow man freak out in peace?”

 

“Why are you freaking out?” a soft voice asks, and Stiles almost has a goddamn heart attack as he flails away from the sink, because it's _Derek_. Of all the fucking people in the world.

 

“Dude, are you following me?”

 

There's a pause, and then... “yes.”

 

Stiles really didn't expect to hear a confirmation, and he's actually speechless for once.

 

“... _why?!_ ” he manages eventually, and Derek looks... like he's steeling himself. All pinched around the lips and slightly hunched in the shoulders under his jacket.

 

“Because I like you. And I... wasn't sure if you liked me back. But Erica said I was being an idiot, and that everyone in school knew you have a crush on me.”

 

_Ouch_ . Subtlety, thy name is very much _not_ Stiles.

 

“And then everyone else kinda ganged up on me to do something, and I did. I guess I shouldn't have done anything so publicly, and I'm sorry for that.”

 

“Oh, uh. That's okay. Wait, what?” It takes him a while, but Stiles finally manages to rewind enough to remember the first thing Derek said. “You _like_ me? In a more than wanna-hang-out-and-copy-math-notes kinda way?”

 

“Way more,” Derek mutters, and _sweet jesus_ , he's actually blushing. Stiles is not equipped to handle something like this.

 

“...wow.”

 

Derek sends him a tiny smile, and he still looks scary as fuck. His murder face really is a curse. But he  _is_ smiling, and Stiles can't help but think it's like seeing an eldritch horror in a bouncy castle. Damn near defies human comprehension, but still somehow super adorable. 

 

Stiles fidgets for a minute, because he's literally never been in this situation before. “Wow. I mean. Really?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay. Cool,” he says, and grins stupidly, because oh, god, Derek _likes him back_.

 

He has no idea what the expected protocol is at this point, and Derek doesn't look like he's about to do anything, so Stiles blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

 

“Gimme your jacket.”

 

Derek's smile dims a little. “Are you cold?”

 

“No.” Stiles makes grabby hands for the jacket, and it's really wonderful how Derek goes all pink across the cheekbones as he figures it out and takes the jacket off again. It still looks like porn, holy shit.

 

“I'm not giving it back,” Stiles declares as he slips into it, savoring the nice smell.

 

There's a weirdly intense look on Derek's face, and Stiles isn't great at deciphering these things, but he could almost swear that it's lust.

 

“Don't you dare,” Derek says, and this time Stiles definitely shivers.

 

* * *

 

They don't make it back to the gym until the last ten minutes or so of the show. But they arrive hand in hand, Stiles still wearing Derek's jacket, and judging from how tingly his lips are he's pretty sure he looks like he's been making out for half an hour. Which just happens to be exactly what he's been doing. Derek doesn't look much better, flushed and grinning, hair going in all directions, and Stiles kinda feels like putting up a neon sign with an arrow pointing to Derek's everything saying  _Stiles was here._

 

He doesn't have to, though. It's blatantly obvious, and as they make their way along the bleachers back to their seats Derek's entire scary gang gives them dorky thumbs up, and Scott nearly falls off his seat when he spots them. He mouths  _oh my god_ at Stiles, who mouths back  _I know, right?!_ He's definitely gonna give Scott all the details later.

 

But for now he's gonna snuggle up to Derek and grin at every cheerleader who makes sour lemon faces at them when they pass. They can all suck it, because Stiles got his man.

 

End.

 


End file.
